


I think they call it separation anxiety (that's really all it is)

by amorremanet



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Fear, Friendship/Love, Hurt Scott, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, POV First Person, POV Stiles Stilinski, Poetry, Worried Stiles, Worry, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first day back to school after it happened, / I almost broke into your locker. Because you were / late and I know your combination like the dialogue / from Star Wars and I couldn’t shake the sick smell of / your gasoline even though I had no reason to be finding / it, not anywhere or in anything. Not in the fucking hallway.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think they call it separation anxiety (that's really all it is)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I originally started this for a prompt in my 42 day poetry challenge… but then it sort of veered well off the prompt and turned into this instead. Whoops. Cross-posted to tumblr [here](http://amorremanet.tumblr.com/post/69465057508/i-think-they-call-it-separation-anxiety-thats).

The first day back to school after it happened,  
I almost broke into your locker. Because you were  
late and I know your combination like the dialogue  
from Star Wars and I couldn’t shake the sick smell of  
your gasoline even though I had no reason to be finding  
it, not anywhere or in anything. Not in the fucking hallway.

But still, I caught a whiff of it and I wondered if you’d even  
make it in for class. Should I have called you? Stayed over?  
He’s good enough and he can take you but maybe it was my  
responsibility. My hands trembled as I took my phone out of  
my pocket and they shook as I brushed my fingers down the  
screen to go over the exchange of text messages we sent each  
other and search for any clues that maybe you did something  
to yourself or maybe you didn’t and my hands just wouldn’t  
stop fucking shaking, storm-swept branches banging on a window.

My voice would have done the same so it’s a good thing  
that I wasn’t talking to anyone or hearing someone talk  
to me or ask me questions I had no interest in because  
they would’ve heard that wavering intonation and there’s  
no way they would’ve let me live it down much less go  
without explaining what could get me so rattled that I lost  
my tongue and couldn’t make my lips work either. Voiceless or I  
may as well have been because what could I have to say to any  
person but yourself. Nothing I say to them has any kind of point.  
You’re the one who makes my words meaningful, you’re the one  
who gives me any reason to run my mouth off like I always do.

And in the hallway by myself, alone in the crowd of classmates,  
stroking my fingertips down the cold metal of your locker’s door,  
I heard your words again, stumbled over my own mind as I tried to  
banish them and the thought that you weren’t coming in today or  
ever again. But then a hand fell on my shoulder. I jumped; you  
squeezed me. I guess I looked pale because you asked me if I felt okay.  
(and I want so much to believe that this was special treatment and not  
the way you are with everyone because it’s really not that you don’t mean  
it when you ask these things but you ask everybody how they’re doing  
and you care so much it’s killing you but even then you never stop,  
you never take a moment for yourself but I’m just selfish like that, I  
guess because I wanted you to be asking that because of me specifically  
I wanted to be the only one you’d ever ask even though I know it’s shitty  
to want something like that from anyone least of all someone who shines  
as bright as you, whose smile could bring anybody, weeping, to their knees).

And I told you that I was even though I don’t really think that’s true at all  
because you grabbed my shoulder and you dug your fingertips in to my  
armatures of fragile bone and muscle and you smiled like everything was  
A-okay even though I know it’s not. And for that moment, it was all enough.


End file.
